


Sweet Blossom

by casbean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Fluff, M/M, Mary is a alive, Soap shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 19:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12711024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casbean/pseuds/casbean
Summary: A new business has just opened right right across the little street of Dean’s flower shop. He’s noticed the owner already - actually, he’s watched the dude hang the sign himself, which took him like two hours and well, wow. He’s. Yeah. Kind of clumsy, and he hammered his own finger twice, but - he’s also a lot stronger than he looks.Also, he’s pretty fucking cute.





	Sweet Blossom

Dean waits about 10 minutes after the _open_ sign is lit up before he crosses the street. He has in his hands a flower pot with blooming yellow daffodils, and he feels ridiculous. No flowers in the new place. Dean looks around quickly, lots of candles and wax things and it smells all meddled but also kind of amazing.

“Hello,” greets the man. He has a pink flowery band-aid around his index finger.

“Hi. Hey. Mornin’.”

Dean walks up awkwardly and then puts the flower on the counter. The man - he’s wearing a nametag with little soap bubbles on it that says _Castiel Novak, owner_ \- looks interrogative. God he’s cute. So stupidly cute _what the fuck_.

“I, uh, I own the flower shop across the street...?”

“Yes,” Castiel smiles. “I recognize you.”

 _He’s noticed_ oh lord oh lord oh lord.

“I, uh, I brought you a - a welcome to the neighbourhood gift. Or something. I mean. I don’t know - I don’t know if you like flowers, or - maybe not, maybe you hate them, but - it’s not a tough flowers to keep anyway you can just leave it alone in the sun and it’ll just, it’ll just do it’s thing…”

“I love plants and flowers,” Castiel says. “Thank you, that’s very thoughtful.”

“I didn’t know what kind so I just went for the daffodils because it means new beginnings, new home, new job and stuff, so, um, I figured it was kinda appropriate. I know it’s kind of in your face yellow but-”

“I love daffodils. This is wonderful and incredibly nice of you. I can’t wait to see it grow. I actually have quite a few plants in my apartment upstairs but I haven’t had the time to buy anything for the shop. I think this will be beautiful here.”

“Cool. Cool.”

“That’s very kind of you, um-” Castiel trails off.

“-Dean.”

“Dean,” Castiel smiles, the name rolling low like gravel on his tongue.

Oh god his voice. and his _smile,_ soft and luminous and-

“So, um, you do candles? That’s cool.”

“Yes, and soaps, and also smell-goods.”

“Oh. wow. That’s great. It does smell good here.”

“Thank you. I think there’s a client entering your shop.”

Dean turns around and looks through the window.

“Oh shit. True. Right. Well, later, Cas.”

He catches a glimpse of another adorable grin before he rushes out.

❀

The little bell chimes and Dean looks up, his heart thudding in his chest. It's him. He’s holding a basket of goodies stamped with his store logo that he puts on Dean’s cashier desk.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“What’s that?”

“I brought you something too. As a… thank you. And an introduction, I suppose.”

“Shameless marketing, uh,” Dean winks.

Castiel dips his head and smiles, colour spreading on his cheeks. Dean feels about the same way as the wax sliding down a candle, hot and puddling.

“Just a small sample of my products.”

“Tryna get me to smell as good as you, that it?”

Castiel raises his eyebrows. Dean imagines a gigantic anvil falling on top of him and crushing him into millions of pieces.

“I mean, um, I don’t - I haven’t really _smelled_ you, I don’t go around _smelling_ people, I just, I meant-”

Castiel laughs. Dean takes the package.

“Thank you, um. ‘S really nice of you.”

“My pleasure. Smell you later, Dean.”

Castiel winks (the worst wink dean has ever witnessed in his entire _life_ ) as he walks out the door.

❀

Dean debates his options. Bring another flower? Buy more soaps? That’s not a good excuse. He’s got a whole freaking basket of them - which smell _heavenly_ of course.

Castiel hasn’t been back. To be fair, it _is_ kind of Dean’s turn to make a move. Giving the guy another flower won’t drive Dean bankrupt, but it might seem a little desperate.

Oh well.

 _Ding ding_.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey. I, um. I brought you an _Anthurium_. It’s, um - it represents hospitality, happiness, and abundance, so…”

“You are definitely an incredibly thoughtful person, Dean.”

He’s also a person who’s never seen eyes so blue in his life. A hue similar to the petals of the Blue Mystique orchid, Dean would say, especially as the light beams through the blinds, causing Castiel pupils to shrink and his eyes to become two gigantic circles of _blue, blue, blue_ …

Dean blinks rapidly. Castiel is smiling at him, his head tilted. Then he places the flower in a nice spot - not in direct sunlight, good - and turns towards Dean again.

“I, um. Tried your soaps.”

“All of them?”

“No, ah, um. The, uh, purple heather and red daisy one?”

Castiel’s mouth twitches up in smile. The soap was lilac with swirls of pink, and Dean would have never thought of putting those flowers together to create a scent. But somehow it worked… and smelled amazing.

“Solitude, admiration… and beauty unknown to the possessor...” Castiel murmurs.

“Sorry?”

“The symbolism of purple leather and red daisy. I recall you quite enjoying symbolism of flowers.”

“Yeah. Right.”

“Do you like the scent?”

“Yeah! yeah, um,” Dean brings his wrist to his nose and sniffs. “It’s really nice.”

His arm is stopped on its way down by a warm and firm grip. Long fingers curl around his wrist. Dean’s eyes widen. His breath hitches. Castiel brings his arm back up, closer to his face, and inhales deeply.

“Yes." He _hums_. "It is a good scent on you. Although…” Castiel moves closer. “The neck is really the best place to get the scent of someone.” He leans over, his fine hair tickling Dean’s jaw, his breath hot on his throat. Castiel smells like honey and lavender. He breathes Dean in and hums _again_ \- Dean feels it more than he hears it - then he leans back and winks (badly) at Dean, releasing his wrist with a subtle caress of his thumb. “Take it from an expert.”

Dean can’t speak for a whole minute. His pulse is racing, his mind is buzzing. A client has come in and Castiel attends to them.

He doesn’t know if he should stay or go - Castiel keeps shooting glances at him, but he’s obviously busy. Dean leaves with an awkward wave.

❀

It’s Sunday. The late afternoon sun is shining through the windows. Dean’s picking up things and cleaning up for tomorrow, thinking about taking the day off. The store’s doing well and he hasn’t had a vacation day in weeks.

The bell chimes. _Ding ding_. His tired sigh gets caught in his throat.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

Castiel's wearing a blue sweater with suede patches, like he’s a freaking college professor and his teaching subject is _how to kill Dean Winchester with wool and cheekbones_.

“Are you closing?”

Dean shrugs. “You came to shop?”

A twinkle appears in Castiel’s eyes. He bites his bottom lip. Dean has never seen anything more beautiful.

“Yes. one can never own too many flowers, can they?”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Castiel begins to look around. They speak at the same time.

“My mom-”

“I think your mother-”

Smiles are exchanged.

“Met my mom, uh.”

“Yes. She’s extremely nice. She bought a lot of soaps and candles, and complimented everything. My best costumer so far.”

Castiel smiles as Dean makes a face.

“Yeah she, uh, always buys way too many gifts for Jess.”

“She was very also very complimentary of you.”

“Jesus…”

“Apparently, no one is more competent in the entire state to give me advice about flowers, plants, succulents or cacti than you… owner of a Masters’ degree in botany, earning your PhD at night-”

“My god,” Dean groans, hiding his face in his hands. “I’m going to kill her.”

He hears Castiel laugh.

“I think it’s nice how proud she is of you.”

Dean blushes, rubs the back of his neck. Damn his mom. He should’ve known with the way she talked about Castiel after coming back from the shop. Ever since Sam’s engagement, she’s been desperate to case him too. She worries about him being alone.

“You’re a very accomplished man, Dean.”

Castiel is close again, standing right next to him as they stare down on a selection of gardenia plants.

“I ain’t. Really. I just… I like plants. Believe me, I did a lotta things wrong in my life. I’m just tryna… do better, I guess.”

He feels the blue eyes observe him, gauge him.

“Why plants?”

Dean fidgets with some tags. Why is his mouth moving?

“My mom was a single mom. I didn’t, uh, throw ball with my dad, and I wasn’t exactly a mathlete like my brother… but on Sundays, I’d garden with mom. T’was our thing, y’know. Just me ‘n her. She taught me a lot.”

Castiel smiles softly. His lips are pastel pink. Dean’s mind is going places, he’s trying to bring it back.

“When I became a teenager I kind of got in a bit of trouble. Didn’t deal that good with not having a dad. Didn’t go to college, got odd jobs. But then, uh… my mom got sick.”

Dean has no idea why he’s saying all those things. They’re standing here, in the fading, dusty light, barely knowing each other. But something in Castiel’s eyes, in the way he’s looking at Dean right now, is keeping him talking.

“Breast cancer. Bad prognosis, too. We really thought that was it, y’know. It kinda, uh. Shook me. I got my shit together. Went back to school. Biology and plants were the stuff I was best at, and it - it’s what I loved, y’know, and mom always said… she always said I had it, that I was smart, and that I had the touch. Guess she was right. ”

“Indeed she was. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. Is she out of the woods now?”

“Yeah. Yeah, she’s fine. It’s all gone. She, uh, she helps me with the shop on Sundays sometimes, can’t help herself.”

“That’s very nice of her,” Castiel grins.

“Yeah. She's the best, really. Even though she’s a bit intense sometimes...”

Castiel chuckles.

“She did made quite a point of mentioning that you were _available_ and _looking_...”

“Jesus christ-”

Castiel laughs. His cheeks are pink. It’s breathtaking.

“It’s what mothers do, I suppose. Embarrassing their children in front of…” Castiel raises his eyebrows, eyes trailing up Dean’s body until their gazes meet.

Dean clears his throat. “So, uh, when do I get to meet _your_ mom?”

Cas looks away, frowning. “Never, I’m afraid. She died in childbirth.”

“Damn, Cas, I’m- I’m sorry.”

Castiel shakes his head.

“Don’t be, it’s fine. I do not have much family. My father was not very interested in raising children and send me off to boarding schools. I do occasionally receive a birthday text. Sometimes even on the right date.”

Castiel smiles apologetically. Dean doesn’t know what to say.

“I do find you very lucky to have a mother like you do, who obviously cares very deeply for you, for your brother, and even for his fiancee. She is warm, loving. I can feel that you-” Castiel stops, his lips curving into a pensive smile, as he continues, “-you have obviously inherited those qualities. You can feel it in here, in this shop, in the care you give to your plants and your clients…” Castiel looks down. His eyelashes flutter on his cheeks, deliciously pink. “I’m glad I moved here.”

They stare at each other. It’s so close. Why can’t Dean just make the freaking move? Instead he asks, breathless, as Castiel stands a few inches from him:

“Why, um. Why candles, and - and soaps?”

Castiel grins, nods slowly.

“That’s a long story…”

Dean shrugs. Smiles.

“I got time.”

Castiel gazes over at him. He looks happy. They sit down on the chairs, surrounded by blooming flowers.

“I was a drone at a big firm. A middle man. I made good money, I suppose, I was climbing the ladder to upper management. I had studied finance, because it was what I was told to do, and found myself working in this tower with windows overlooking other towers, and living in another tower with windows overlooking other towers…”

“Lots of towers,” Dean scoffs. “Sure you weren’t in Lord of the Rings?”

Castiel chuckles. Every time he dips his head down, Dean stares at rebellious curl of hair on top of his head and swoons.

“One day, the bathroom at my office ran out of soap. And for some reason, the cleaning crew didn’t replace it. I sent a memo, as one does... it did nothing. After a few days without soap, I decided to take things into my own hands…”

“And make the soap?”

“No. But I went to the store on my lunch hour. For some reason I… I wanted a nice soap. And candles. I thought, since i’m going out of my way to get this soap, and it’s my own private bathroom, and I’m taking my lunch hour to do this, might as well get something nice. So I started smelling all the hand soaps at the drugstore but I couldn’t… find one that I really liked.”

Dean wiggles his eyebrows. “Picky soaper.”

“So I decided to go to another one. On my way, I saw the sign for a farmer’s market not far out of town. It was a really beautiful, sunny day,” Castiel recalls.

“I hadn’t been out of the city in a while. Hadn’t done anything… _different_ , in a long time. There were stands there. Homemade soaps, artisanal candles. They all smelled… incredible. Weird, sometimes, but… I ended up talking to the people there. For a long time. They were telling me how they started, how they came up with their ideas. I bought a lot of things. I even…”

Castiel smiles at the memory, feather lines around his eyes. Dean wonders if he used to smile like this, before. He doubts it. But it’s not right. Castiel should be smiling all the time, every second of every day, smiling, grinning, fucking _beaming_.

“I even spent hours looking at plants and flowers, just _smelling_ , thinking, about scent and smells and… and then, then night fell. And I realized I hadn’t gone back to work. Hadn’t called. And for all the years I’d studied and worked and _lived_ … I had never before felt as good as I did that afternoon, picking up candles and flowers.”

Castiel looks away, cheeks flushed. When he smiles - or when he tries not to - dimples appear on his cheeks. Like magic.

“So I left everything. Gave the cleaning crew a huge tip, left it all behind, took my savings and opened this shop…”

“That’s amazing,” Dean says.

Castiel looks at him.

“I mean, it’s damn courageous to leave everything and start new.”

“I suppose.”

They gaze at each other for a moment.

“Cas?”

“Yes, dean?”

A smile, interrogative. Those lips.

“Would you, um. Do you- d’you think-”

Raised eyebrows, curious eyes. Dean can smell the honey and lavender. That man makes him lose all of his composure.

“What, what - what type of plant where you looking for?”

Dean closes his eyes. Damn it. He’s such a coward.

“I was wondering if you had any types of _proteas_ ,” Cas murmurs.

“Um, yeah, not a lot, but a couple. Not the easiest types to care for though. Need some courage for something?” He teases.

“Yes, actually.”

Dean presents to him his three small _proteas_ and Castiel looks at them, thoughtful. He picks one with green and pink petals.

“It’s on the house,” Dean tells him. “So what d’you need courage for?”

Castiel stares at him with wide eyes, hands gripped tight around the clay pot.

“To finally ask you out on a date.”

❀

Dean whistles as he makes his way across the street. For a second he wonders if it’s a bit much - he saw Castiel just a few hours ago, and now he’s bringing him coffee and flowers. But Dean basically had to throw him out of bed this morning so Cas would go open his shop, so...

The smile that greets Dean makes all of his worries melt away. Cas' shop is now overflowing with flowers. They stick out between the soaps and candles and goodies, brightening the space. Cas has brought home at least five or six new ones this week. One for each date, and an occasional extra one the mornings dean came by for coffee after.  

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, gorgeous.”

They exchange a kiss above the counter. Dean smiles. He always smiles when Castiel is around.

“I, uh. I brought you this.”

He pushes towards him the coffee - vanilla latte - and the flowers.

“They’re beautiful,” Cas frowns, watching the plant reverently, as he always does. “What are they?”

“ _Anchusa capensis_. Blue Angel.”

Castiel raises his eyes to him. Blue, so blue. Dean has had the chance to see those eyes a lot this week. In all kinds of light, with all kinds of (good) emotions flowing in them… He's been able to stare and drown himself in them. He got Cas a Blue Mystic orchid after their first date, and told him a whole lot of things about colours and beauty and his irises at 4am on their third one, holding him very close but not close enough.

“What's the... _symbolism_ of blue angels?”

“Love… and all that.” Dean offers a half-smile. “Mostly, it means you.”

“Me?”

Cas’ cheek turn that beautiful shade of pink again, shade that Dean has been relentlessly chasing lately. He has found many, many ways to induce it, all of them more earth-shattering than the last.

“Yeah. ‘cause you’re all things blue… and also, well… y’know.”  

Castiel grins. Beams, in fact, and dips his head as their hands joins next to the small pot. He’s wearing a blue shirt today - he almost exclusively owns blue clothes, like he knows what it does to Dean. As Cas’ thumb brushes on the back of his hand, they exchange a glance and both bite their lips. The word _angel_ had accidentally fallen off Dean’s lips a few nights ago. It stuck. Dean can’t think of any better word to describe him. He arrived out of nowhere, popped out of the blue - literally - and like a miracle, brightened Dean’s life in a way he never thought possible.

Cas says he isn’t sure if it’s appropriate. Dean’s made it his mission to convince him it absolutely  is.

 _Ding ding_.

Clients. Dean lets go of Cas’ hand. He leans over, gives him a quick kiss on the lips, trying to memorize how they feel, for the few hours he’ll have to go without.

“I’ll see you tonight, angel.”

❀

**Author's Note:**

> Important thing to know: there's a lot of flowers at their wedding. Every guest leaves with a gift bag of homemade soaps and goodies. Mary cries and hugs Cas like 39438 times. (She started calling him her son about two weeks after they started dating.)
> 
> find me on tumblr [here](http://casbeanie.tumblr.com/) or [here](http://casbean.tumblr.com/)


End file.
